#but i do need another podium. another points finish even. carnally

[raceweek]

Im so serious when I say I need new pics of sweaty alex with champagne spray like what do you mean we havent gotten new ones since 2021 ????? Like dtm my beloved but williams its time to get your shit together and get this man on the podium so my demands can be met. A girl can only handle so many breathtaking charles leclerc champagne photos before that envy becomes ugly (that being said it would be nice if alex felt like bleaching his hair again before getting on that podium bc not getting sweaty blondlex champagne photos would be so sad)

i really really really admire your faith to be thinking about williams getting a podium when alex has pretty much re-enacted this iconic lewis radio sequence every grand prix weekend so far this season

[sadoverstyles]

Changing Lanes; Chapter One

Eva is learning to balance her life. Between full time classes at Imperial, an unusual work arrangement with a bottle blonde popstar, and his brunet band mate that she just can’t seem to shake, she’s certainly set up for an interesting year.

“In previous discussions on what to do if I ever met the boys, Niall and I had never planned for this scenario. More cunning that this, we thought. Found inflagrante delicto, I was to gush over them and play the ever doting fan. Waving in adoration from the exit as Niall passes the afternoon off as just a one-time thing with a willing woman.”

Content Warning: MA for language and sexual situations

Evaline Warner

August 25th, 2015

It certainly wasn't a bad way to spend my Tuesday afternoon, or any afternoon in my opinion.

I probably should be reading my Advanced Financial Reporting textbook, or testing myself on Latin verb conjugations. Yet instead, here I am, on all fours, reeling at the vice grip secure around my hips and the pressure tight in my core.

I'm close, pushing and pushing my hips back in retaliation to his drive. He's most likely close too, but checking for sure isn't steady at the forefront of my mind.  A handful of thrusts and I'm there, forgetting the soreness glazing my thighs in favor of the exhilarating blaze chasing the blood through my veins. I ride the high for every second I'm given, drinking in the familiar sensitivity of every nerve, the soothed, cloudy edges of my consciousness.

Soon, he's gone from behind me, laying to my left, flat on the plush comforter. His knee is pulled near his carved, barely tanned chest, white knuckles and tight palms clutch at the connected calf.

I know what he's going to say. I know he knows that. But I also know he's still going to say it.

"Calf cramp, gonna have to take over for me, Ev." White teeth glint behind a wide smile, a smug look that suggested he was in anything but pain. That overwhelming flash of cockiness would have made me beyond angry if it was anyone but Niall, but it was Niall.  Niall who trusted and relied on me so much, proving it just by creating this situation he'd trapped us in.

It's a rouse. He never has a calf cramp, or a throbbing knee pain, or shin splints. It's never a coincidence that he always becomes incapable of finishing right after he sees that I have.

He wants me to blow him. It's different some times, he'll want me to ride him, or his face, maybe put him between my tits and let him go crazy. The cocky grin says blowjob though. Palms slotted on his waist, knees settled between his own, elbows locked next to his hips, I start. His taste is as familiar as the warm palm on the back of my head, as the taut muscles lined between my fingertips.

I liked coming down doing this more than some other tasks. I had a mission to focus on that wasn't tedious and didn't need too much attention. It just required defined movements and basic forethought on what approach to use next. Niall's palm was relaxed in my hair, a sound reminder of our trust in each other.

The first few times we'd been in this position Niall pulled my hair so tight it felt like I couldn't breathe, much less experience a touch-and-go lesson on how to give a blowjob. Coming down from the first few truly pleasurable orgasms of my life and all I could think was I would be bald by the time I was twenty-five. Niall told me he'd find someone else, someone that would thank him and kiss his balls for pulling their hair that tight. He told me to leave and delete his number, forget the deal.

Two weeks later Niall caved, told me he wouldn't pull so belligerently if I would consent to our same platonic arrangement. Thanking the gods above that I wouldn't have to revisit searching for a valid, legally acceptable job that didn't make me gag (most of the time), I acquiesced.

Stomach muscles tightening beyond belief, palm pushing pressure in effort to hold me still, hips coming forward minutely, forcing me to breathe deeper through my nose, Niall finished with a heady sigh. Every muscle I could feel or detect was loosening, forming a gooey, tranquil version of the man in front of me.

I laid peacefully next to him long enough for a few beats of silence to pass, contentedly lifting to my feet once the ache in my jaw lessened to a tolerable level. I checked that I still had both earrings, reclasped my watch, reassembled my outfit from earlier. I replaced car keys with panties in my bag, mentally deciding I'd have to stop back at my place. It was barely three in the afternoon, who was I to prance around to run errands and what not, sans underwear? While I tended to keep an extra pair in my bag for situations just like this, it seems to have escaped my mind this morning.

Fingers slipped brown ankle boots over pizza embellished socks as my other hand reached out to grab my bag. My spine straightening fully as both feet planted firmly on the ground. I had grown a strong sense of balance in this routine of redressing; one foot or both feet I could still snap in earrings or comb out my hair in the same moment. Niall groaned behind me, slipping on only a pair of dark boxer briefs over stark white skin. His exposed body created a severe contrast to my complete state.  

"Why do you get dressed so quickly?" Niall walked closer, biceps by his ears as he stretched both arms high above his head. "It doesn't make this nearly as rewarding if you aren't still frolicking around with all on show." Lowering his arms as he passed where I stood watching him, rolling my eyes, his wide palm spanked my ass with vigor. "See, too much there. I don't get to hear that nice echo when ya covered in all this clothing." His palm came down on my behind once again, lips pinching downwards in exaggerated mock disappointment as the dress's fabric muffled the carnal sound of skin on skin.

I knew he was kidding, having a right laugh with himself. If he was serious, it would only take one heady comment, one strategic hand to have me in the same position he did ten minutes ago, bent over taking the impact of his lecherous desires, feeling each resounding thrust deep inside me.

But he was flippant with the idea, moving on towards the kitchen. It wasn't the first of the month, so I headed out of his home without another word exchanged.

              August 31st, 2015

Knees to my chest, my elbows locked tightly around them, holding firm with feet warming the chilled desk chair beneath me. Tomorrow's presentation was the only thing I could focus on right now. It was only twelve minutes, but I had to pack a hell of a lot of information in those twelve minutes. It was also a hell of a lot of my grade for the entire semester. Principles of Economic and Community Development sounded a lot easier a few weeks ago when I wasn't writing a full impact analysis of government militarization. Now it just sounded like regret and lost wishes of an easy econ credit.

I only have to take one more course after this one to cover all the required econ hours for my degree, but right now the idea of anything beyond this speech was just going to make me want to crawl in bed with ridiculously fluffed pillows and an Orwell novel. Thursday's Latin exam was too far in the future to even comprehend at this point. My mind was too occupatus for even a glimmer of thought at what I needed to deal with for that.

I couldn't allow myself to think about how fantastic that would feel right now, to be all warm and cuddly; I had to memorize my take on the loss of consumer good production and how that affected the business cycle and the investment demand balance and the worth of the Euro and ten other things that just were nowhere near as exciting as every American Wall Street movie glazed them over to be. It was more like crunching numbers and algorithms six times because there's six ways to mess each one up and if you get it wrong there's a domino effect that I don't have a penchant to deal with in the aftermath.

So in summary, this presentation was stressing me out on an unbelievable level. Especially because I kept switching two paragraphs out of order when I tested myself and I couldn't look at my notes when the moment came, exactly T- thirteen hours from now. Who knows what I'm going to get out of order when I start rambling on the podium, I could blank the whole speech for god's sake.

I knock on the wood of my desk twice. I'm not taking any chances with luck here.

Once t- twelve hours set in, I made the executive decision that I was about as perfect as I could get at this moment in time. I also decided that I'd recite it to myself over and over in the morning before I left.  

Maybe if I'm lucky enough I'll recite it in my sleep and subconsciously engrave each word into my cerebellum.  Fingers crossed!

The chime of a text message ricochets from my desk throughout the flat, earsplitting above the sound of my socked feet padding over soft carpeted floors. I ignore the notification, instead continuing the quest for apple cider. In times that other people would definitely favor tea of some variation, it never appealed to me. The spicy warmth was something I found much more calming and tranquil, no worry of over infusing or loose leaves.

I cringe at the frozen tile beneath my toes the entire time I spend in the secluded area long since designated to be a kitchen, only finding salvation in my return to carpet. The chime from my phone sounds again, sending me almost grumbling at the displeasing noise. Who ever's texting me must not realize I have a very tough presentation in mere hours, much less how stressed it's making me.

Rigid, my stomach muscles were all but quivering when I noticed how tight I had become at the thought of tomorrow. Deep breaths could only do so much for my mental stability until it was all said and done with. Even rationalizing the situation with the full knowledge how this was just common apprehension to public speaking and that this was in no way going to define my life, I was still nervous.

I clawed at the case of my phone in passing, grasping it from the desk's surface on my way to bed. The thought of who the text might be from came to me as I began to settle down under the comforter. Although then the thought of whether I locked the deadbolt came to me as well, and I found that much more pressing.

Not long after both of these thoughts passed, my decision to stay huddled in such settling warmth over ensuring my own safety and prosperity was made. Over a year I've lived in this flat, anyone looking to case the place would have done it long ago, I was sure.

Shying away from the overly bright light, I debated forgoing the message until I found myself fit for human interaction. Once the screen had adjusted to the surrounding atmosphere, the idea had all but disappeared from my mind.

Niall was certainly the last thing on my mind, and I was in no head space to have sex right now. Certainly not travel ten minutes to have sex and then travel ten minutes back either.

come by before noon

My Econ class was at eleven tomorrow. My presentation was at eleven fifteen and there was no way I'd get to his flat in the ten minutes between class ending and noon striking.

I have class

come by before noon

The revelation came upon me then; tomorrow was the first of the month. Payday had completely and totally slipped my mind.  I responded with a simple ok, somewhat grateful I get a small moment of respite in the morning, miles away from my mind's incessant running over coursework.

              September 1st , 2015

T-2 hours from my first class, from the presentation that would play a hand in deciding if I got the three hours of credit I deserve.

Niall's flat was a little out of the way on my route to class, so I had to scramble to delegate extra travel time. I forced myself to stop reciting the speech after I'd gotten it perfectly six times in a row, which was close enough to my destination.  

His flat was upscale, guarded with security systems galore to keep out armies with beautiful nails. I knew the code to enter the building, 7872, I knew the code to get onto his concealed floor of the building, 0716, and I knew exactly where he kept his spare key, covertly latched onto the potted plant with white flowers. He had just recently told me about the spare key a few months ago after a charade of him griping how tiring it was to get up and walk to the door every time when he already knew it was me.

I, for one, thought locking his door at all was redundant. Anyone who was able to get themselves this far was adept enough to eventually find it behind the third branch on the right.

Niall wasn't in the front room, or the living room, which meant he was likely in his bedroom or bathroom. I made no effort to announce myself as I waltzed through, I had already been summoned.  

Immediately, my mind processed that Niall was not in the bathroom, but instead bare on a sea of green where his duvet would normally be visible. History tends to repeat itself, and therefore I was not all that surprised at the sight in front of me. It was mildly comforting to see such a familiar face, settling the nerves that plagued me.

Per my calculations, which I'd like to say Imperial College and I were pretty confident in, there were exactly one hundred-fifty bills stretched out wide across Niall's bed. A strong hunch was leading me to believe that was the money I came here under the impression to pick up. Another strong hunch told me I was going to thank myself later for being here early.

"Fancy of you to show up, I'm so glad we scheduled for a late lunch date." He was hard, and seemed to also have no intention of being bashful. Not like I'd ever known him to be before.

"It's nine in the morning," I deadpanned, narrowing my eyes on his arrogant grin. "I see you've been watching Wolf of Wall Street again." Fingers loosening the bag in my clutches enough for it to drop with a resounding thud, I began the process of toeing off my carefully planned outfit.

"Harry's been on a kick; bet you all the money that's stuck between me ass cheeks that he and Kendall have been doing the exact same thing." I had no doubt that was a substantial amount of money considering how long he must have been lying here. "Hurry up, I've have a recording scheduled at noon and I don't wanna smell like I've just bust a nut, babe."

Babe. Niall had started doing this early into our agreement, I feel less douche-y when I say it, he'd claim. I'd given him hell about it for a little while, teasing the living daylights out of him for being soft. It had grown on me by now, a soothing sound to hear. Even when he just tacked it on the end of some vulgar comment, Niall's accent wrapped around the word, softened it somehow. His thick brogue calmed me in a way that I would without a doubt deny if asked.

His knee was up, setting his entirety on display.  I watched his face for a moment as I removed the last of my clothes. For the position he was in, his face held a huge contrast. Lips parted just enough to let air pass, every muscle looked relaxed, save from the small twitch keeping the corners of his mouth up. I knew from memory the defined cut of his jaw; but in that instant it was rounded, like if I touched him, his skin would be softer than my own. The tips of my fingers twitched to run through his hair, to see if I could rearrange the mess and still make it look as good as he did when he wasn't even thinking about it.

"You think I want to show up to class looking like that?" Knees working over crumpled bills, I worked my way over, sitting on his waistline.

"Won't be a boring lecture, surely."

"I have a major presentation, asshole."

We grind and groan and grin and fuck. We move together and it's fluid. It's a piece of the first time we had sex on a bed of money, it's a piece of the second, of every time after that. We swivel and thrust and it's both of us, and we know what we're doing, and in the same moment we have no idea.

When I roll partially away from Niall, one arm flung across his chest, a foot planted flat between his spread knees, a right shoulder stuck into his upper arm, I don't think. I don't think anything at all until Niall plucks a bill from under my breast.

As I do begin to think again, two thoughts are both glaringly apparent and muddily indefinite. The first is a running loop of my speech, almost like background music to my own life, repeated as my day's own mantra. The second is that I didn't know what time it was.

Today is Tuesday August first, this I know. I have a presentation at eleven am, this I also know. What I don't know, is whether I had royally fucked myself in the last however many minutes or not. Yet while the inverted Sophocles in me wants to sit here and ponder those thoughts and how they could relate linearly or otherwise to the other ones that crossed my mind today, my limbs were already off the bed, grappling at a bra here and a shoe there.

Muscles leaping, I go for necessities; purse, pants, bra, shirt. "Presentation in forty-five. I'll be back to pick up later." My ears barely register Niall telling me to come by after four as I dash out of his penthouse compound, one sock backwards and the other not there at all.